“Are you done yet?” Kazia says, tense.
Lucien’s racing thoughts are far more difficult to control than his magic. “Most men enjoy my massages, you know. They want me to go harder.”
After another tense moment, Kazia mutters, “You’re disgusting.”
But his heart isn’t in it. The jibe hasn’t eased his fear at all.
“I’m funny,” Lucien says, not daring to drop his cheerful facade. His voice remains steady as he works the ointment over the worst of the welts—as he holds back his surging magic. “I’m handsome, charming, and great with my hands.”
“You’re scum.”
“And I’m done.” Lucien backs away, expecting Kazia to spring from the chair.
Instead, Kazia rests a moment, gathering himself. Hallabark gleams across his back, the shine calling even more attention to the welts. Kazia rises watchfully, searching for the revelation Lucien is determined to hide.
Either Lucien’s good at hiding, or Kazia’s too weary to see through him. Exhaustion deepens every delicate shadow of his face. “Why are you doing this?”
There’s no good answer. Lucien doesn’t want a good answer. He’d rather offer the truth: “I don’t know.” Then, before either of them reveals more weaknesses to agonize over in the morning, “You should go to sleep.”
“Can you feed the rats?” Kazia asks. A question, not an order.
“I’ll do that now, Your Highness,” Lucien says, using the title as a barrier. It gives him the slight distance he needs to tear himself away.
In the parlor, beneath dozens of beady black eyes, Lucien rubs his hands on his sleeves. The scent of hallabark still clings to his fingers, grassy and sweet. He keeps moving, filling up the feed bowls for Cloud and Shoe and Princess and the rest. Then he checks their water dishes.
Then he stalks the parlor’s edges, and even if the collar worked, it wouldn’t have stopped him. Because Lucien’s instincts aren’t driving him to escape. He’s patrolling the perimeter. Keeping watch.
This should be the perfect opportunity to search Kazia’s rooms. Lucien isn’t locked in his cell, and Kazia’s obedient, careless drasgard won’t check on him without orders. But even the thought of checking the hidden letter box feels like a violation.
Kazia has suffered too much of that already tonight.
More than just tonight. Fragments coalesce into unpleasant shapes, and Lucien watches the parlor fire until it dies down. Then he feeds it the tiniest tendril of magic, just enough to burn until the servants arrive in the morning. Lucien’s flames are obedient now.
The door to Kazia’s bedroom still waits open. Lucien should close it.
“Kazia,” he says at the threshold.
The room is dark. There’s no reply to his voice, nor to his intruding footsteps. The looming, curtained bed is barely visible, but Lucien recalls his surroundings. Shrouded in shadows, Lucien settles on the sofa across from the bed. He leans against the overstuffed back, neck and shoulders loosening with the stretch.
When he holds his breath, Kazia’s sighs through the darkness.
Lucien wishes he wasn’t alone. That Whisper hadn’t left the palace. That he could talk to Audric or Corin—because they have some knowledge of this sort of thing. That Tezurit was in range, that he’d had the chance to forge something like the relationship Rakos has with Sarka. The way Rakos puts it, thinking is easier when two of them are on the job.
Most of all, Lucien wishes for Bellamy, with his talent for seeing magic. Bellamy could confirm or refute Lucien’s suspicions.
Maybe Lucien just wishes he needed confirmation. He’s far too certain, though he’s never experienced it before. They don’t do this sort of thing in Silaise. Kazia can’t know that Lucien even suspects. Lucien’s getting good at reading his captor’s face, and he’s certain of this too: Kazia’s more terrified of revealing this than of revealing the lash marks.
Kazia is a grail. And for reasons Lucien can’t fathom, it’s a secret.
?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kazia
Soft voices jar Kazia awake. Nobody should be speaking in his room at this hour. If the servants must enter, they’re quiet. If they have to wake him for family breakfast or some other torment, they ring a bell.
More importantly, Lucien Vaire has no business being on the other side of his bed curtains, ordering breakfast from one of Kazia’s servants.
